Fingerprints
by Pokiepup
Summary: Told from Bo's POV sometimes in the future, a letter from Lauren and a slight walk down memory lane. Short One Shot.


_**Fingerprints**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_Dear Bo, _

_I've sat here for hours trying to write this letter to you, it's not so much _

_the writing that is the hard part, but the proper choice of words._

_I'm mean, what is the proper way to speak to you given our history?_

_And even more so, how do you say what I have to say given our history?_

_Honestly, I can't think of what to say that hasn't already been said_

_Either by myself or by you already. _

_._

_._

I have to stop reading as the door flies open and I nearly stumble in—I forgot how tricky the lock was, not to mention how much the wood swells when it rains.

God, this place is a shit-hole.

I smirk to myself as I walk in, pushing the door shut with my free hand. The smell of mold, rain, dirty water and dust filling my nostrils—can't say I missed this much.

I walk down the narrow hall, bringing the letter back up so I can finish this.

_._

_._

_I could tell you how much I love you but I am sure they seem_

_Like empty words now given how things have played out._

_I could tell you that you remained in every thought I ever had,_

_That I never went a day without speaking your name at least once aloud_

_Nor went a day without wondering where and how you were._

_I could tell you that I never spent a night without dreaming of you._

_That I never woke a morning when you weren't my first thought._

_._

_._

I look up from the thick, cream colored paper, leave it to her to think that regular printer paper wasn't good enough or even notebook paper considering she hand wrote it.

Who hand writes anything anymore?

Swallowing at the unusual dryness in my throat I glance into the kitchen, as dirty and disgusting as always-though I can't help the memory or rather memories of me and Kenzi pigging out while trying to solve a case or talk about our complicated love lives or-really just any reason. The memories of Hale shuffling through the fridge, always hoping to find Gatorade or of Vex raiding the cabinets just as ravenously as Kenzi would.

A memory of the three of us sitting at a makeshift table eating pizza and grossing Kenzi out with our flirting—first time I ever really learned anything about her past.

Too bad she left out so much of it.

_._

_._

_I could even tell you that the biggest regret of my life was letting you go_

_Or rather, walking away-all depending how you look at it._

_I know you haven't forgiven me for it, honestly I haven't forgiven myself._

_My days as of late have been nothing but walks down memory lane_

_Once sweet memories turned bittersweet, but then again_

_Everything with us was always bittersweet, wasn't it?_

_._

_._

Taking a deep breath, the air suddenly very heavy—must be all of the dust.

I walk into the living room, smirk pulling at the corner of my mouth, so many good memories of me and Kenzi. Late night talks and drinking games that should never have been played—at least without an ambulance on call. So many tears cried here—so many realizations.

The memory of me offering her my bed—her turning down my chivalrous offer-the ever so light graze of her skin against mine—an unspoken action that spoke volumes all on its own.

Too bad what came after silenced those '_unspoken_ _words' _that I had turned into '_unspoken promises' _of a future for us.

But then again I had a nasty habit of that—planning futures for us.

_._

_._

_That may sound—harsh but our reality was always one laced_

_In a blanket of harshness and cruelty. _

_The thing is though that even knowing the odds, _

_knowing now how it all plays out for us-I would do it all again._

_In a heartbeat._

_._

_._

I place this page behind the next, taking another breath—this odd tightness in my chest—must be-must be something.

_._

_._

_You were the one good thing in my life._

_It's nothing against Nadia, or Dyson and Hale and Kenzi or anyone else_

_But YOU were my saving grace, the one thing that brought me _

_Back to life—that brought me TO life._

_._

_._

Had to give it to her, she was always good with the words—when she wanted to be.

Every intricately woven lie—every deception—I wonder if she even knew which team she was playing for at any given time. I wonder if she even knew what the truth was-I wonder…..

I wonder a lot of things when it comes to her.

_._

_._

_I don't want you to blame yourself for this, for any of it._

_You've always had a horrible tendency to take the blame for everything_

_Even though it was out of your control—just shows how big of a heart you have._

_I know these words will fall to deaf ears, but I want to say them anyway._

_Maybe reading them will bring some level of comfort, some level of peace._

_._

_._

How ironic—now she is concerned with my wellbeing—with my feelings.

I let out a sniffle, brushing the back of my free hand against my nose—stupid allergies—yeah—allergies.

Taking a moment from this—this letter I make my way through the living room and up the narrow staircase to what was once my room, the fifth stair creaking just as loud as I remember and the last step just as wobbly too.

Some things never change.

_._

_._

_I suppose that's what this letter has been about._

_The ramblings of a regretful and anguish ridden woman losing touch _

_With a reality she desperately wishes to become numb to yet never forget._

_The musings of someone who is desperately seeking absolution._

_The writings of a woman who realized too late all of the things she should_

_Have seen long before it came to this. _

_The words of a shattered and lost soul wishing to bring comfort to its other half._

_._

_._

Another deep breath coming from me as I look from the page into what was once my room—everything in its place just as the day I left.

The bed still unmade—so many people had come and gone through here, most meaningless—in fact pretty much every single one of them except for Dyson really.

And her.

That was the problem—I could never look at my—I mean at this bed without picturing her, picturing us.

Any given moment, any given kiss or touch or fuck or love-making or-her sleeping in my arms.

I shake my head with another sniffle as I walk over to the bed and take a seat on the edge looking toward the staircase.

_._

_._

_I suppose that is all there is too say,_

_After all we were never much for words—words always got us in trouble._

_I hope that this brings you comfort or a peace a mind_

_Hopefully both but I will settle for one._

_I loved you, I love you and I will always love you._

_Never doubt that for a moment. _

_Eternally yours,_

_Lauren._

_._

_._

Eternally mine, hm?

A single tear drop falls onto the paper just to the side of the words, my thumb quickly brushing it away.

I force myself to look up taking another breath as I try to halt my tears that had been slipping for a while now.

Lauren wasn't even her real name-but it's who she was to me.

I told her once it didn't matter-that I didn't care, that I knew HER and I loved HER-that's never changed.

I accepted it all-I accepted all of her but it wasn't enough to keep her.

She was always like one of those beautiful and unique birds—the ones that just couldn't be caged—that shouldn't be caged.

She always said I was the one who ran and I was—but I always found myself running back to her-I guess I thought that when she flew away-she'd fly back to me at some point.

I guess in some ways I am still waiting.

I guess that's why I decided to make a four hour detour from my destination to come here and take a stroll down memory lane. I guess that's why I decided to read this letter instead of throwing it away as everyone said I should—as I thought I should.

But I've always been waiting for her-I think I was waiting for her before I even knew there was a her to wait for.

I don't know what to believe anymore—I don't know what were the lies and what was the truth.

I don't know which her was the right one or the real one—was the one I saw and _knew_ really her or was the one the world knew really her.

Were those heartbreaking words the true depth of her feelings and opinions of me or were all of the other ones, the '_I'm yours'_ and '_I love you'_.

I don't know-maybe I never truly will but I like to believe that she was her true self with me. I like to believe that the words she spoke for my ears only-the words in this letter-I like to believe that those are really how she felt.

I don't think I'll ever get to know—I've made peace with that—not by choice but by necessity because the truth is that one year, five years, twenty years or a million years from now I will still be waiting for her.

I'll always be waiting for her.


End file.
